


two's company, three's a crowd, four's a family

by narcomanic



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, POV Multiple, Polyamory, author's extensive headcanons cooked together and seasoned with fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/narcomanic/pseuds/narcomanic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<i>Scarlett</i>, though, that's gonna be near impossible to shorten,” Newt says after the overall amount of crying in the room has decreased by about a half. He nuzzles the baby's wispy hair and shoots a glare at Hermann from the corner of his eye. “Was it your idea, Herms?”</p>
<p>“<i>I</i> think it's a lovely name,” Vanessa cuts in before Hermann can open his mouth.</p>
<p>“It is, it is, just saying,” Newt hurries to assure her and pretends to squint at Scarlett's scrunched-up face in contemplation. “Lettie? Or <i>Scar.</i>”</p>
<p>“Please no nicknaming our daughter after Disney villains until she's at least old enough to watch the films,” Hermann says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	two's company, three's a crowd, four's a family

The weather in Hong Kong in January takes him by as much surprise as it did a year ago, and it isn't until the official part of the ceremony is over that Hermann can remove his outer layers. They've seen the still ongoing restoration of the city, witnessed the unveiling of the memorial to Operation Pitfall (where Newton for once has the good sense to keep his mouth shut about Hermann's last salute), and paid their respects at the Wei Tang graves where the sea of flowers, incense and other gifts bears testament to the amount of lives the triplets helped save.

Vanessa has taken Scarlett, who at eight months old is getting increasingly wriggly and much too heavy for him to carry for extended periods, to play by the greenery lining the monument. After a while, Mako joins them, which means that Raleigh can't be far behind, and sure enough, a moment later the man politely asks if the place next to Hermann is taken.

“Not at all,” he says and instinctively shifts in his seat to maintain distance as Raleigh sits down. Raleigh only gives him a warm smile in reply and turns to look at where Mako and Vanessa are chatting while Scarlett tries to catch the platinum tips of Mako's hair.

“The year's been good for you, I'm guessing?” Raleigh finally says after an amicable silence. Hermann nods.

“Yes, it has turned out... quite eventful,” he says. He looks at Raleigh. “You've been quite busy yourself, if I'm not mistaken.”

Raleigh's smile veers momentarily into a grimace before reverting. “Yeah, well... someone has to be the face of victory. And if we have the press paying attention to us, we can also tell them what to pay attention to.” His eyes wander up to the monument shining in the sun, bearing the names of all the pilots lost in the war. His brother would be up there somewhere, Hermann realises, and averts his eyes from what suddenly feels like a private moment.

They relapse into silence, broken only by occasions of gurgling laughter from where Mako's playing peek-a-boo with Scarlett. Raleigh shifts nearly imperceptibly in his seat.

“You're doing well, all... all of you?”

Hermann senses the numerical confusion underlying the question and wonders how to answer. “Yes, we... are,” he says. “Vanessa has been wonderful, I mean truly... I could not have wished for a better partner. And Newt– Newton helps where he can. When he doesn't wander off,” he adds in a mildly aggrieved tone that elicits a snort from Raleigh, who seems relieved his question didn't cause offence.

“And being a father has been...?” he prompts after a short pause. Hermann glances at him.

“It's...” He looks at Scarlett's stubby little fingers grasping eagerly at everything she can reach, at Vanessa's conversely elegant hands securely holding her upright, and decides to be honest. “It's been even more inconceivably delightful than expected,” he says.

He hears Raleigh giving a soft sigh at his answer. “I'm looking forward to it, then,” he murmurs.

Hermann can nearly feel his thoughts driving to a halt. He looks at Raleigh, at his blissful smile, the softness in his eyes, then quickly turns back to Mako, still playing with Scarlett, and feels his thoughts slot into place.

“Oh.” He blinks. “I believe... congratulations are in order?”

Raleigh's smile only seems to get wider still, and Hermann can't help but wonder at the difference time makes. The way he remembers, receiving news like this during the war was not quite so simple.

* * *

What he remembers is the weight of the silence that had fallen at Vanessa's words, the tick of the clock echoing through their tiny apartment louder even than his own breath.

What he remembers is being almost too terrified to speak.

“What I'm saying is, I'm not really asking for your permission,” she continues. “I've made my decision and... I just want you to understand why I've chosen this.”

“You did always want...” Hermann swallows the rest of the sentence but Vanessa already knows how it would have ended.

“Yes, I have,” she says. “So have you. _We_ have always wanted this.”

It's not something they've ever expressed in words, but they both know it to be true. They've said it through shared smiles at families passing by, through fond looks at baby clothes in shop windows. She sees it in the way Hermann will sit down with her nieces and play without a word of complaint so that Amanda can get a moment with her sister.

“And I wouldn't do this if I didn't believe we can win this war, you know that. The way you wouldn't do this job if you didn't believe the same.” She pauses and Hermann gives a minute nod. “It could be next week, could be next year, or in _ten_ years... but it will end. And when it does, I don't want us to find ourselves with all this life left to live, only to realise we're going to live it out on our own.” She reaches across to touch her fingers to Hermann's wrist. “Neither of us wants that.”

Hermann turns his hand to clasp hers, his palm a little clammy. He swallows nervously, squeezing her hand like a lifeline, and when he finally speaks his voice is noticeably choked. “I... Would it be terribly selfish of me to protest this on the grounds that... that I wouldn't get to be there for most of the time?”

Vanessa breathes out softly. After a moment's hesitation, she raises a hand to gently stroke Hermann's jaw. “No,” she says. “But we don't get to choose these things.”

Hermann's breath comes out as nearly a sob as he tangles their fingers together, pressing his face to her palm. There are things they'll need to discuss, family to contact and plans to make, but for now neither of them can bring themselves to say another word.

* * *

Technically, Newt has known Vanessa for quite a while before they officially meet. Having never had much success in relationships himself, it had come as a fair bit of surprise that Hermann – Hermann fucking Gottlieb of the tucked-in argyle sweaters and perpetually uptight manner – was actually, honest-to-goodness _married._ Since that moment of revelation, Vanessa had become a familiar background presence – her voice carrying over during videocalls with Hermann, the brief waves passed between her and Newt whenever she caught him on the screen behind Hermann's back, and of course the prominent shots of her professional work for the Jaeger program ensured that when the time came for them to meet face to face, Newt could've probably picked her out from the airport crowd blindfolded.

In their years of casual association, Newt has already formed a fairly high opinion of Vanessa, but the waves of bone-deep relief at seeing her standing in the arrivals lounge are still a bit of a surprise. He answers her smile with a broad grin of his own and rushes forward, nearly dropping his luggage in his hurry to embrace her after all this time, to finally rejoin with his wife he'd – wait –

“Wait.” Newt stops with his hand on Vanessa's shoulder and, taking in her wide-eyed stare, flinches back with embarrassment. “Shit, okay, that was... weird.” He turns away and shoves up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. Hermann, having meanwhile caught up to them, hovers with his hand halfway up to Vanessa's shoulder _like he had originally planned_ and is looking from her to Newt to explain what just happened.

Newt gives an awkward wave of his hand. “Sorry, it's like... he just _loves_ you so _much_ ,” he says, and from the corner of his eye he can just see Vanessa's eyebrows shooting up and Hermann turning away, the tips of his ears burning.

* * *

The baby arrives remarkably on time, which is to say that Newt jolts awake five minutes past midnight on the expected date. Fifteen minutes later they're all three of them piled into the same taxi, Hermann busy contacting Vanessa's sisters so it falls to Newt to squeeze her hand in a poor attempt to calm her down.

The delivery room itself can only hold so many people, and soon Newt is exiled into the waiting room along with the rest of Vanessa's extended family. It's difficult not to shake to pieces with Hermann still freaking out in his head, so a part of him is glad not to be left alone.

“Relax, man.” Jools, the youngest of the Sharp sisters, has wrapped an arm around his shoulders. “Ness is gonna be _fine,_ her pregnancy's been as model as the rest of her. And Mandy's there, too. She's been through this before, she'll know what to do.”

The best Newt can offer in reply is a kind of a breathy whine, and he buries his face in her shoulder in a heroic attempt not to cry.

The tears come thirteen hours later, after possible permanent damage to his neck muscles from trying to sleep in weird positions, when they're finally allowed back into the delivery room. Newt is a lost cause from the moment he first glimpses the blanketed bundle in Hermann's arms.

“Oh man,” he whispers. “Oh _man_ , how is that _real_ , she's so _tiny_...”

Vanessa cracks open an eye to give him an exhausted smile. “Didn't feel tiny coming out,” she very nearly croaks. She nods at Hermann, who looks to Newt in invitation. Newt shakes his head weakly.

“No, come on, I can't hold her – I'm legit gross here, gonna drip snot all over her.” Hermann silently coaxes him to open his arms, and after some careful manoeuvring Newt's got the baby's head cradled in the crook of his arm. He's distantly aware of Jools having her camera out and tries to subtly wipe the worst of his nose on his shoulder, which is of course when he happens to touch the teeny tiny hand of the baby and promptly starts crying about newborn grasp reflexes.

 

(“ _Scarlett,_ though, that's gonna be near impossible to shorten,” Newt says after the overall amount of crying in the room has decreased by about a half. He nuzzles the baby's wispy hair and shoots a glare at Hermann from the corner of his eye. “Was it your idea, Herms?”

“ _I_ think it's a lovely name,” Vanessa cuts in before Hermann can open his mouth.

“It is, it is, just saying,” Newt hurries to assure her and pretends to squint at Scarlett's scrunched-up face in contemplation. “Lettie? Or _Scar._ ”

“Please no nicknaming our daughter after Disney villains until she's at least old enough to watch the films,” Hermann says.)

* * *

“Nooo, that's not possible!” Newt exclaims and is immediately met with twofold shushes and Vanessa gesticulating towards where Scarlett has finally fallen asleep. He takes the reprimand to heart and pipes down as much as his particular voice allows.

“If you were a 90s kid, and I _know_ you were,” he points at Vanessa with a fairly steady hand that isn't busy holding a beer, “you don't get to have non-dorky kid photos. It just doesn't happen.”

“Remarkably photogenic from birth,” Hermann murmurs into his own drink and gets a peck on the head in reward. Newt whines something about favouritism while Vanessa's fingers continue carding lazily through Hermann's hair.

“I did have a... teenage thing,” she says and Newt nods sagely.

“ _Goth phase_ ,” he says and Hermann snorts, Vanessa raising her hand to give a dismissive wave.

“No no no, more of a... more _colourful._ ”

Newt raises an eyebrow. “I really can't see you as a hippie.”

She shakes her head. “Not really. Let me see if I can find any...” and she trails off as she levers herself off the couch. Newt melts into the cushions and jabs Hermann in the side a bit harder than intended.

“You never grew _out_ of your phase, amiright? You were probably born in a sweater ve– _hey_ ,” he breaks off when Hermann swats at his glasses.

“Hermann was _adorable_ ,” Vanessa says upon her return with a photo album, and Newt grins in victory at the blush spreading over Hermann's face. She rifles through the album and balances it on her lap so that they can all get a look. Newt instantly starts giggling. Hermann's shoulders are shaking silently.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Newt whispers. “I mean, orange isn't a bad colour _in itself,_ but...”

“I know,” Vanessa groans in self-deprecation. Newt pulls the album closer to himself.

“At least your make-up's better than mine,” he says.

Hermann turns to look at him. “You had that awful... _band_ phase.”

“ _No_ ,” Newt squawks in protest while Vanessa cracks up in the background. “I _had_ a _band_ , it's not the same, you dick.”

“I demand pictures,” Vanessa says once she's got her laughter under control. Newt rubs a hand across his face and then starts digging for his phone.

“Yeah, fine, lemme work my google-fu,” he says.

“What were you called?” Vanessa asks, tapping her half-full glass against her lower lip. The answer comes near-synchronised from Newt and Hermann, and she starts dying anew on the spot.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Newt grumbles without much bite. “There's one.” He taps the screen and hands the phone over. Hermann's smile would put the proverbial cheshire cat to shame and Vanessa isn't far behind, leaning on his shoulder and poking the pixellated face of 17-year-old Newt. She may be cooing a little bit.

“I still say I win,” she says. “Though I hope you learned how to properly put on eyeliner.”

“He never did,” Hermann says. The 35-year-old Newt scoffs at this interjection as Vanessa eyes him appraisingly.

“I could teach you,” she says.

 

He stays put on the edge of the bed while Vanessa rifles through her make-up collection.

“Technically you should always start with the foundation, but I don't have your tone,” she says, twisting on her seat to face Newt. “That way it doesn't smear all over the place.”

Newt shrugs. “With us the more it smeared, the better it was, really,” he says. The noise Vanessa makes in reply is of such profound disgust it'd make Hermann proud. Except then it occurs to Newt, as she gently takes his chin to position his head, that it might very well have originally been a _Vanessa_ sound that _Hermann_ picked up.

“Face to the light,” she murmurs, stroking a finger over his brow bone. There's a click of plastic as she opens the eyeliner. “All you really have to do is keep your eyes shut and still.”

It really sounds like a cue for Newt to say something cheeky and vaguely suggestive, but it's surprisingly difficult to be witty after a couple of beers and with a warm, soft hand cupping his face. One of the strangest things in meeting Vanessa had turned out to be relearning... no, _un_ learning how to love her. Newt had walked into Heathrow with preexisting deposits of love spilling over his neural pathways from where Hermann's merged with his. The challenge had been learning how to love Vanessa not as Hermann, not the way Hermann loved her, but the way Newt could – would – love her. There was obviously overlap – there was no denying the elegance of Vanessa's hands and as an incorrigible tinker himself, Newt was drawn to dexterity. At other times her skill sets would be a cause of dissonance, such as when Vanessa for the first time asked to take a photo of him, and Newt had experienced a flash of residual anxiety before remembering it wasn't _him_ who hated being photographed. In the end, it hadn't taken long for Newt to become a permanent fixture in the family's pictures.

“Right,” Vanessa says quietly. “How's that?”

“Hm?” Newt blinks his eyes open and winces at the sudden light. For a few seconds, he continues staring stupidly at Vanessa's face, still rather close to his own, before rewinding her words and turning to the mirror.

“Hey, _cool_ ,” he says. The razor sharp wings in the corners of his eyes outshine all of his past attempts by a mile and a half. “Makes me look all sexy and stuff.” Vanessa lets out a throaty laugh at this, and Newt turns to her with a ready-set pout that meets her finger before he can say as much as a word.

“I'm inclined to agree,” she says, raising her eyebrows. Newt blinks. “Especially with the 'and stuff' part,” she adds.

“Oh,” he breathes and tries not to get hard. Vanessa smiles and drags her finger over the curve of his lip, stopping finally to rest at the corner of his mouth. _Okay, maybe get a tiny bit hard._

“Should we call the hubby here?” she murmurs. Newt swallows and barely squeaks at all in his haste to agree.

* * *

The drawing has the telltale quality of a 6-year-old hand, but it is displayed on the kitchen wall with the same level of pride as the professional macro photographs next to it. The four vaguely lumpy, vaguely human figures are standing in a decreasing order of height, the smallest of them wearing what appears to be animal ears. Lines of colourful chicken scrawl meander around the page and cluster around the figures.

_That’s mum who’s just mum and that's dad who's sometimes uncle noot and thats uncle noot who’s sometimes dad and that’s me and Im just me but mum says it’s okay to be just one people at a time so I shudnt be sad about being only me._

_Scar G. aged 6_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Regarding Vanessa's family structure, there's three sisters: Amanda (Mandy) is the oldest, then Vanessa, then Julia (Jools), because I like the idea of both her and Hermann being middle kids from fairly big families. I remember hearing Sharp as her maiden/modelling name, but now that I went looking for the source I can't find where it originated from (it could be fanon for all I know)?


End file.
